


I Delve Into The Perpetual Darkness

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dreams, running through hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 01:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/338312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a dark night when the girl goes out walking, trying to empty her mind of a devious dream that had plagued her conscience before she had been awoken from it. She stumbles through various levels of what she considers to be her own personal hell; encountering the arcane to the devilish. Will she make it out?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Dream Of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This is an original work by me!!! Hope you enjoy!
> 
> ~HalfJewel

Something’s pulling me towards the nasty alternative of ending my life. I can’t help but wonder if ending my horrid, putrid existence will bring me peace; because that is all I care about. _Me, me, me_. They say there is no _I_ in _team_ but there sure is a _me_ in team. _Me, me, me._

I’m surprised my inflated ego hasn’t aerated to the point of causing me to float over the tiny little conurbation I call my town. But, God works miracles, even if He may or may not exist. The notion of a single deity ruling over all with a book that claims to be the Holy Word has always caused me to ponder. I have not delved into the Good Book yet, so perhaps I shouldn’t count my chickens before they hatch. Whatever that proverb meant. 

I know I am dreaming because I actually _am_ flying. I know it’s November, because the wind is bitter and laden with the rain from yesterday. It’s night, because when I open my eyes the lights from my city are glittering under me, like a million stars shining down on the ocean, performing a mystical dance for my enjoyment. I halt, taking in the spectacle. I wondered if anyone saw me up here, in the heavens. 

The thought provokes an angry notion out of me. People today were too focused on work and other inane things. They were too stupid to look up and take in the glorious sight that was unfolding above their boring, mundane existences. 

_Me, me, me._

I am not like these sorry souls. 

_Me, me, me._

The image starts to distort; turning from fantasy into horror. 

_Me, me, me._

I will not be like these sorry souls.

The shimmering lights turn a blood red and crimson starts bubbling at my feet. I gape at what my fantasy’s becoming and try to flee, only to find myself being dragged. Grotesque, blistering hot, bony hands grope up from the blood deluge and grab for me, successfully gripping my leg. I scream and try to pull away, only to be dragged deeper and _deeper_ \--

_Hell’s on my heels, better run, run, run._

The thought comes without my consent. What had caused me to think such a thought, I wonder?

_Hell’s on my back, I’m done, done, done._

So this is it. _Me, me, me._

_Lucifer’s gonna have a laugh when he drags you to hell_

It takes on a pealing echo, like it was a children’s lullaby. What sort of mother would sing this to a sleeping child? Not mine.

_Die die die_

_I can’t_

_Help, help--_

_Please help!_

_  
_


	2. I Walk With The Night's Children

I cannot make out what the rest of the dream’s whispering to me because I awake violently, breathing hard and shaking like a frail, dried-out leave in a strong, uncaring gale. Sweat drenches my nightwear, my bedspread, my hair, and I begin to ponder if that dream had been a tad real when blood starts seeping through my blanket. I kick off the comforter to see a myriad of slashes lacing up my legs, looking almost like…

...Handprints.

My eyes widened. It seems as if my dream had become a horrible, devastating reality. I get out of my ruined bed, wrap my legs in some gauze that’s laying about in the house (my family is _terribly_ accident prone, so there was a bountiful supply of it. You never know.), and combed my messy hair. I pull on some jeans, a gently worn black T-shirt that I have always found complimentary of my robust figure, and slip on some tennis shoes. Sneaking out’s going to be easy, I come to realize. Mom’s snores can be heard loudly in my room, so I steel myself and shut the front door tightly behind me, hoping that I won’t come home to see a frazzled-looking Mom glaring at me from the couch. I scope around my surroundings, checking my phone to see it was midnight. No cars chugged down the street; the lights in the convenient store across from our house were dimmed, no one manning it. 

Hm. I never notice how quiet it can get when no human life is awake to distort the silence. It’s peaceful; no honks of horns, no angry shouts, no flipping of the bird. I’m rapt to get away, so I zip up my jacket and pull up my hood, ambling my way around the mud puddles to get to the sidewalk. As I step onto the wet concrete, I feel a certain shift in the air, like someone was nearing me. I shrug it off. No one in their right mind would be awake at this time of night.

I suppose that’s why _I’m_ awake.

I round the corner, seeing what some would call perpetual darkness looming just overhead. I briefly consider going back, stripping my bed and sleeping on the naked mattress. I then shake my head, clearing the fog of doubt that’s snaking its way into my thoughts. I always cower out of things too quickly to even try them. Breathing in as quietly as possible, I take a step into the shadowy mass, pleading with whatever deity watched over humanity that I made it back.

I open my eyes.

Perpetual darkness is relaxing. It cools my skin and massages my tense muscles, coaxing them to uncoil and relax. My legs are no longer wobbly as they lead me forward into the blackness. I’ve no idea where the mass is taking me. The only thing on my mind is the moment. This is one of the most arcane yet exciting things I’ve ever experienced, and I’m not going to chicken out of doing something... _scary._ This causes me to smirk. 

It takes me a moment to realize the feeling of being followed is coming back, and I whip around to see two white dots hovering at about eye-level, staring at me. I falter in my resolve, because my heart’s fluttering in my chest like that of a captive bird’s wings, adrenaline’s pumping through my veins, and I’m starting to go into _fight-or-flight_ mode. 

The answer is quite obvious for one of my caliber.

I hear the voice before my feet can push against the concrete, thrusting me away from the floating dots and deeper into the shadows. I freeze, eyes locked on the whites, until a traceable grey line forms around the white, making a humanoid-like living being. Soon many others join the being, and before I know it, I’m swamped.

I don’t speak, mostly because my tongue feels like the consistency of sandpaper. My hands are shaking, my heart won’t slow down, and my drying sweat was quickly becoming wetter.

They are voices. They ring and bounce around in my ears, dripping into my mind so I can process them. 

The children of the shadows.

They are alone.

_Me, me, me._

I turn and walk forward, not even caring that they repeat my each and every movement.

  



	3. I Relish In My Sudden Vengeance

I stop and turn around when I realize that no one is following me. It’s been over thirty minutes, it feels like, so I suppose they got bored with my humanness and flitted somewhere else. I completely understand. Sometimes I despised being a powerless human.

Scoffing, I continue on the unmarked path, darkness the ground beneath me and the walls surrounding me. Silence rings in my ears. I desperately wish I had brought some means of noise so I wouldn’t feel so out there. Sadly, my phone was too conspicuous. I don’t want to alert any not-so-nice entities out there of my humanly presence, so I sigh quietly and walk at a set pace down the black sidewalk. 

I think about what is happening at the present moment. I am walking through a chasm of blackness, no return in sight, nor an exit, and I am left with a persistent thought screaming in the back of my mind. It urges me forward, forcing my feet to walk. The thought’s pitch turns from screaming into a pleasant singing.

_Don’t turn back. Keep moving forward._

In my continuous brooding, I am barely aware of a sudden keening sound, like nails to a chalkboard. I halt and clap my hands over my ears, trying to block out that horrid noise that’s sending chills dancing down my spine and goosebumps prickling my skin. The sound is familiar. It is a sound that haunts me every day. Every single freaking day I have to go to the hellhole institution known as school. It’s that little harlot that I have come to hate ever since I entered school, and the feeling is mutual. Though I haven’t the faintest idea why, we share an unspeakable enmity for each other. It were as if it was borne from the deepest pits of anger and hatred that one could not even fathom how deeply it ran. 

The laugh gets louder, and a tease of blonde hair flits pass me. I reach out to grab it, but it is so thin and fine that it slips through my fingers like water. I hiss in anger and contempt for the tramp. Why am I getting angry at a ghost? This is merely a hallucination. In fact, I’m pretty sure this whole scenario is a hallucination that I shall soon wake up from. There is no darkness surrounding me, nor soiled gauze tightened around my legs, or drying blood on my bedspread. This is a dream and I shall wake up soon.

But it was _my_ dream.

Shouldn’t I be able to have a little fun?

I grin at the sudden images flashing through my forebrain. They were sick and deadly images that Mom would probably flip over if she somehow knew I was thinking them, but that little realization was destroyed as the images flooded my brain. All of my enemies in the black mass, surrounding me, vulnerable and pleading with me as I exacted my cold-blooded, anger-filled revenge. It could be _real_ here. It could be _reality_. 

I feel something cold in my palm and I glance down to see what I would call my ‘weapon of choice,’ one I play-threatened my friends with almost every once in a while.

A machete.

The polished blade was black and glittered maliciously, and I then realize that soon it was going to be caked with the blood of my enemies. 

The thought sends a shock of sick pleasure jolting through me. Soon my grievances would be avenged, and I was only so happy to deliver that vengeance. My eyes glaze over as each and every once of my enemies stare me back, eyes pleading with me to spare their lives. I come to terms with the thoughts stewing about in my brain.

I’m playing God here.

I smirk and raise the blade above my head.

_I am the will of the reaper, and I enjoy relishing my sudden vengeance._

_  
_


	4. I Walk Into The Chimera's Den

I extricate myself from the trance I have fallen in as I throw down my machete and amble away from the grisly scene in which I have painted. The tang of blood poisons my tongue, and I swallow the bile bubbling up my throat. Something tells me my actions shall earn me a one-way ticket to the fiery Inferno known as hell, but I have a feeling that I’m already going, even if the killing hasn’t sealed my fate. I don’t see the eternal happiness known as Paradise. I only see the hellfire and brimstone known as the Pit in my bleak, unfortunate future. 

I periodically look behind me, as if to check if anyone had followed me into the blackness and had just witnessed the horrible crime I had committed. A strangled sound escapes my mouth and I find myself sinking to my knees, hugging myself, like I’m trying to keep myself in one piece, even though I’m slowly becoming unglued. This must be one of the effects of the darkness. The slow dip into sweet, innocent insanity. 

_Mother of God, help me,_ I think, falling onto my shoulder. _Forgive me for the unbearable crime I have committed and save me from the heathen that is slowly devouring me. I cannot bear to stay in this mortal coil with the inkling that I have knowingly murdered a fair number of innocent--barely--humans…_

My eyes squeeze shut. My stomach heaves and the contents of dinner that still had not digested came spilling out, the bile burning my throat. I cough and rub some vomit away from my mouth, my taste souring. I slowly wobble up and saunter away from yet another mess I have made, stomach knotting and unknotting in the same sequence. A fine sheen of sweat drapes my forehead, and my shaky hands go to wipe it away. I clamp my mouth shut when a scream tries to escape from my lungs. My hands are covered in blood. I squeak and run forward, tripping on some nonexistent thing, as I try to escape from the demons that are chasing me, wanting to possess my human body and do all sorts of evil things to and with it. My stubbornness will not let me envisage such treachery. No such wretches will possess my body. It is _mine_. No one else’s.

I stumble around for what seems like lifetimes until I come across a peculiar-looking being. It was a combination of a lion, with large bat wings, and the head and neck of a snake. My breath catches in my throat and I wish I had kept the machete, because I have a feeling that this thing wasn’t an ordinary pet. In fact, I know what it is. It’s a chimera, a combination of different animal parts. Being smart has its advantages.

I don’t say anything because I just don’t feel like talking. I fear if I speak, then the chimera would get agitated and eat me. It’s merely eyeing me now, sizing me up. Maybe if I visualize a weapon, like last time, then one would magically appear in my hand. 

It doesn’t work. I curse mentally.

The chimera sits on its hind legs and stares me in the eye. I wonder what it is thinking. Probably, _Man, this girl is all fat, nothing nutritious. Oh, well, it’s food._

How...reassuring.

It gestures its head to the left and I follow. The perpetual blackness continues, and I nod to the chimera. It nods back, and spreads its bat wings, beating them and becoming airborne in two-seconds flat. I watch it go, wondering if I have just walked into a chimera’s den.

  



	5. I Follow The Object Of My Affections

 

My sudden encounter with the chimera has shocked me. I have never before been so amazed at how ignorant humans are. These things _do_ exist, my mind registers without a folly, and to my utter amazement, it doesn’t reject the thought. It, surprisingly, accepts it. It accepts the fact that all we are taught to believe and disbelieve when we are kids is complete nonsense and we should believe in the impossible.

I like this thought. I like it very much. 

I stumble forward in the blackness, pondering about where I’m heading next. If there is a mythical creature known as a chimera dwelling in the perpetual darkness, then who knows what other monsters were in the black? I don’t want to find out.

I take my steps slowly, calculating my movements. I want to continue into the darkness. Turning back is even laughable to think about. Turning back means that I cannot finish the task at hand, and I am most certainly a person for whom finishes all tasks. If an unfinished task niggles at the back of my mind for long, then I know I will go insane.

As I saunter deeper into the darkness, I am vaguely aware that a person is in front of my. An outline of a grey shade makes a figure of that of a teenage boy. I feel my cheeks heat up. It’s _him_. The current object of my affections, even though he is constantly oblivious to the glances I shoot him in algebra. _He_ is _an oblivious type,_ I think, setting a speedy pace so I won’t lose him. He, however, continues walking, not knowing that I’m tailing him, in a non-stalkerish way, of course. 

What could he be doing here, I wonder? Has the perpetual darkness sucked him in, along with me? Were we going to be trapped in this place forever? _Together?_ The cogitation scares me. I can barely utter a word to the soul and we were going to be stumbling around in the shadows for eternity. Imagine the awkward silences we will share.

I clear my head of such thoughts. I will find my way out of the darkness before it fully consumes me. This is merely a test to determine my strength, I realize, and I will not wimp out. So I steel myself and speed up my pace to a slow jog, the outline of the object of my affections approaching slowly. I make out cropped blonde hair, those broad shoulders, and tall frame. I know it’s him now. I shout his name.

He turns around and flashes me a sheepish, almost rueful smile that causes me to skid to a halt. His expression is penitent and he spins around, continuing on. I decide not to be thrown off by the contrite gesture and walk as fast as I can possibly accomplish towards him. I finally reach him, and my hand extends to touch his shoulder.

He lunges forward and sprints farther away, then halts and grins at me, like a naughty child whose hand was caught in the cookie jar. I stare at him in a contemplating manner. What game is he playing?

He holds out a hand and suddenly there is a flower. He rolls the stem between his forefinger and thumb, then goes to pluck a petal. His lips part and a pealing sound echoes through the darkness. 

_She loves me._

The virgin white petal twirls to the ground and the blackness sucks it up, like parched ground with water. I step forward, but he holds up a hand, causing me to halt. I smother a gasp that wants to leave my lips. 

_She loves me not._

Another petal dances to the hungry, black ground, and it gobbles it up in a greedy manner. Only, this petal is not white, but an innocent tickle-me-pink. My brows shoot up in confusion. No flower I know of has monochromatic petals.

_She loves me,_ the voice purrs, and a pinker petal falls to the ground, being devoured by blackness. _She loves me not. She loves me, she loves me not._

Soon after the mantra is repeated for what seems like a lifetime, a blood-red petal twirls to the ravenous floor and I expect it to be eaten, but it is not. The floor warps around the petal, and my eyes shoot to him.

He smiles, and his voice sounds through the darkness.

_She loves me...not._

This causes pure anger to rise up inside of me. I lunge forward and shout, “That isn’t true! I do love you!”

I fail at my attempt to do so, however. My mouth opens, but all that comes out is the sound of a breath exiting my lungs; a sigh. I backpedal a bit, eyes widening.

He smiles and offers me a nod. _Goodbye._

And with that parting word, the world spins around me and reality returns.

  



	6. I Wonder About The Perpetual Darkness

So it turns out to be all but just a dream.

I feel myself being dragged through tunnels and then reality hits me like a well-deserved slap in the face. Screams echo through the tunnels I am being tugged through, but I can barely register them. The perpetual darkness has dispersed, being replaced with an annoying ringing sound, like someone’s--

\--Cell phone alarm clock.

My eyes snap open and everything focuses into place. The white walls of my room go in and out of focus, and I have to scramble into a sitting position to make sure that I am still alive. My sight drops to my bedspread to see that it is not ruined. My heart pounds relentlessly in my chest. My breathing is quick.

My mother shouts at me, “Turn off your alarm clock, for god’s sake!”

I yelp and immediately push the button, silencing my phone. I set it down and examine everything in my room; the TV, the bed, the walls, the floor, my Wii, and none of it seems distorted. 

Had it all been a nightmare?

No. 

Yes?

I cannot help but ponder the current state of things. 

I examine my legs, once laced with slashes, only to be amazed to find the pale skin unblemished. I scramble out of bed and into the living room just to catch the beginning of a story that causes my mouth to quirk when the images flash onto the screen.

My enemies’ faces. The times of their funerals.

I grin maliciously.

It seems as if a part of my dreams were real, after all.

 

 

End 

  



End file.
